Edge of the World
by micbb
Summary: Edward sits at the edge of the world and contemplates his choices. Warning: contains talk and contemplation of suicide. Oneshot.
**Hey guys. I've been through the some personal stuff lately that's lead to some severe depression and contemplation of suicide (I'm alright now, loves. Getting the help I need to pull through this!)**

 **But this is a short look at at someone who's given up, and someone who's determined to give that person hope.**

I sighed.

I was absolutely beyond tired, my mind sluggish and his thoughts unclear and fuzzy, but my limbs hummed with a new energy as I stood on the edge of the cliff at first beach, the chilly wind whipping at my already messy bronze hair and burning the sensitive skin of my cheeks. I'd lost sensation in the tips of my fingers some time ago, and my toes were quickly going numb as well. I wasn't dressed for the weather, I thought wryly, my lips curving into a bitter smile as I watched the waves crash loudly against the rocks below, hammering against the unmoveable wall of the cliff and nearly matching the rolling thunder in its intensity.

I hoped, when I did jump, it would be fast. I didn't think I'd like to be conscious when the waves inevitably shoved me up against those rocks, slamming my body and shattering my delicate bones.

Maybe this was an overly dramatic way of going about things. I could have just taken a handful of pills, or left my engine running in my small garage and waited until the carbon monoxide took care of me. It might have been easier that way, too. I'd heard it was like falling asleep.

But I was already standing at the cliff, and I was so damn _tired._ I was tired of being alone, of work, of the monotony my days, of being exhausted and yet unable to sleep. I was tired of spending my weekends in my bed, staring listlessly at the wall and of considering my own death several times a day.

Depression hadn't bothered to creep up on me. After the death of my parents, the only people in the world I cared about, it had hit me harder than I'd ever thought possible. I had never been the cheeriest man, usually preferring my own thoughts to the company of others and tending to frown more than smile, but, like the waves under my feet, the depression had been relentless in its pursuit, slamming me against the rocks and then out again, taunting me with a brief lull before it tugged me under and shoved me right back against the damn things until I didn't know which way was up anymore.

I had no friends, no siblings, no parents. No one would care. Just one step and I would finally be free of everything. The fatigue would leave me alone, the vicious waves of depression would calm, and I could finally find blissful nothingness.

It was one step.

One stop and I was done. Gone. Fini.

I was shifting my weight, preparing to step forward, when something caught my eye.

It was a woman. She was a tiny thing, perhaps five-foot-four, with long, dark hair that tangled and whipped around her face, significantly more affected by the wind than my own comparatively short locks. She wasn't looking at my, instead looking out over the cliff, staring off to where the waves met the sky. She was slight, her hands tucked into coat pockets and her elbows tucked tight to her body, probably fighting off the violently cold wind. She looked so small, standing next to me at what felt like the edge of the world, and I wondered if a strong gust would topple her over.

I wondered how long she'd been standing next to I.

I waited for her to break the silence that stretched between us.

Who was she?

What was she doing here?

I had managed to loose myself in my own thoughts by the time she spoke for the first time, her voice quiet and barely discernable over the howling of the wind.

"Some days, the colour of the water and the sky match," she murmured, not looking at me as she spoke. "I'll stand here and look straight out and not be able to tell where one ends and the other begins. It feels like I'm standing on the edge of the world. And then there I days when I come out here just as the sun is setting. You have to time it right, see, because it takes so long to reach the water, but once it does, the skyline sort of flares orange, like the water's caught on fire, and the clouds look pink. I honestly never thought about how pink and orange looked together before I saw it from this spot." She looked to the rapidly darkening sky, which was mostly covered by ominous looking rainclouds. The downpour, already visible only a few miles away, would no doubt reach us soon. "I don't think we'll be able to see that tonight, though," she finished, sounding almost mournful.

I looked at her curiously, and she finally met my gaze. Her wide eyes were a rich brown, her face pale except for her red nose, probably a result of the biting wind. I wanted to ask her name, to know who she was, but instead I asked, "have you spent many evenings here?"

Her lips twisted into a soft smile and she looked back towards the water. "More than I'd like to admit."

"Why?" I needed to know.

She was silent for a long moment before speaking again, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I like it here. It's peaceful."

The waves continued to crash against the rocks, and further out I could make out the crests of several massive waves, falling and tumbling into each other and no doubt creating a whirlwind of an undertow that would drag someone under and refuse to spit them out. Thunder continued to threaten rain, and the clouds had never looked more daunting.

Right. Peaceful.

I held back a snort.

"You don't feel it? It's the edge of everything. When you have a bad day, you can wait until the sun finally settles under water and tell yourself the day is over, it's time to start again."

I let her quiet, soft voice calm my nerves, wondering if I would wait for her to leave before taking my step. I certainly couldn't do it while she watched, no matter how well she hid her judgement from me. As it was, her calming voice was calming my racing heart, and I took comfort in the sensation, however brief.

"And the air is clean. Sometimes I just feel so suffocated back home. Like the air inside is so stale but if I go outside and breathe then all I taste is the exhaust from the cars." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, seeming to revel in the sensation of the cold air hitting her lungs. Her exhale was long and measure, and when the last bit of oxygen had left her chest her lips tipped upwards into the smallest smile and her eyes opened. "Not here though. The road is too far, so the air tastes fresh. Better."

Curious, I took a breath, taking the time to let the flavours hit my tongue. She was right – the air was cold and fresh, and I was reminded of taking a long sip of ice water.

She said nothing else, so I spoke again. "What are you doing here?" The question slipped through my lips before I processed the words, and I flinched when I realized she would probably ask me what _I_ was doing here. Could I tell her? Could I tell this beautiful stranger what I'd come here to do? Say the words out loud? I hadn't managed to do that yet, even just to myself.

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression calm and unbothered by my direct and rude question. Then she shrugged and looked back towards the skyline and shrugged. "Catching my breath," she said cryptically. We shared in the silence once more before her soothing voice managed to break through the howls of the wind once more. "I don't think I need to ask what you're doing here."

I looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged again, not looking at me. "It's written all over your face, your posture."

"What is?"

She looked at me again, her wide chocolate eyes, far too perceptive for her own good, betraying sadness. "Hopelessness." She replied quietly. "I know someone who's given up when I see them."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

 _Hopelessness_. That was certainly right.

"Who are you?" I finally asked, frowning at her. Was I really that easy to read?

"Bella," she told me with a slight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "My name is Bella."

 _Bella_.

Italian for beautiful.

"Who are you?"

I pressed my lips together before answering so that nothing more would slip from my mouth without my permission. How could I possibly answer that question when I didn't even really know who I was. Her answer, simple in its truth, did more than reveal her name. She wasn't just _called_ Bella, she _was_ beautiful. Inside and out, it seemed. Who in their right mind would come over to spend time with a stranger when it was obvious, to her, at least, what that stranger was planning to do?

The turmoil in my mind caused by her innocent question left me breathless. "No one," I finally said quietly, telling her the truth in the same way she had. "I'm no one."

She hummed, and when I turned to look at her face, to see her reaction to my harsh words, I saw that her smile had disappeared and the corners of her lips had curved downwards, signalling her apparent displeasure at my words.

"You know," she said quietly, shuffling so that she was sitting on the edge of the cliff, her legs dangling over the drop. "In my twenty-three years, I've never met someone who was no one." She looked up at me with her warm eyes. "What's your name? I'm certainly not calling you _no one_."

My lips curled into a bitter smirk. "Edward." I admitted to her.

"Edward," she repeated with a smile, and my name on her lips made my heart flutter strangely. Her eyes sparkled as she observed me, perhaps glad to have put a name to my face, though I couldn't imagine why anyone would bother anyway. "Why don't you sit with me, Edward?" Bella suggested, patting the spot next to her.

I thought about it for half a second before shrugging and settling down next to her, and she scooted over so that her legs brushed against mine.

There was no skin-to-skin contact, with both of our legs being covered by our respective jeans, but I suddenly couldn't remember the last time I'd willingly touched another person and the barest contact seemed to burn through my pants and warm the skin of my legs.

We were quiet for several minutes, watching the storm clouds grow closer with every passing second. The patch of water disturbed by rain was now clearly visible in the distance, and I wondered if we didn't have more than ten minutes before the rain reached the cliff.

"I'm sorry, Edward," Bella broke the silence again, not looking at me as she spoke, her face unreadable as ever. My name on her lips made goose bumps run down my spine.

I blinked in surprise, turning my head to see her better. "For what?"

"For whatever's happened that's brought you here."

My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed thickly, suddenly afraid to breathe. "What do you mean?"

She looked at me then, her eyes understanding and sincere. "We both know why you're here, Edward," she said softly. "And yeah, sometimes there's no cause, nothing that led up to _those_ thoughts, but I don't think that's the case with you. I think something happened. So for whatever happened, whatever made you give up, I'm so, so sorry."

Her right hand, the one closest to me, lifted from its position on her lap. She turned her palm up and offered it to me, her brown gaze not leaving my eyes for a second.

I hesitated, looking down at the proffered hand and then back to her open, kind face. I swallowed thickly before taking it in my own hand, trying to hide my trembles. When I finally felt her skin against my, my grip on her hand tightened unintentionally. She didn't protest, allowing me to anchor myself to her. My breathing was suddenly unsteady and I felt tears build behind my eyes. When the the last time I had held someone's hand?

Bella said nothing, letting me gather my thoughts and collect myself, holding her hand more tightly than I'd ever held anyone's.

"Thank you, Bella."

She offered me a small smile and scooted closer to me so that our legs were completely pressed together, leaning her head onto my shoulder. My eyes widened at the intimate contact and my back stiffened slightly, but Bella stayed in place, not resting her full weight against me until she felt my muscles relax as I settled into the unfamiliar position. The breeze tossed the strands of her brunette locks around, sometimes tickling the back of my neck, and I was hit with the strawberry scent or her shampoo. I couldn't recall ever smelling something so sweet.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your last name?" Bella asked me. Her closeness meant I could feel the vibrations from her voice in my chest, and I was comforted by the sensation. Everything about her seemed to be soothing and comforting. I wondered if it was on purpose, or just the way she was. Everything about her seemed to draw me in, and all I knew about her was her name.

"Cullen." I told her, feeling the word stick in my throat. My parents' name. Another reminder that I was alone in the world.

"Edward Cullen," Bella tested, my name rolling off her tongue. I shivered at the sound of my name on her lips. She tipped her head upwards so that she could look at me and smiled. "Nice to meet you, Edward Cullen. I'm Bella Swan."

I smiled weakly at her. "Hello, Bella Swan."

She blinked slowly and her smile grew. "I like when you say my name." She admitted, her cheeks tinging pink. I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing, and Bella turned her head back towards the water, watching the clouds continue on their path. "Rain will be here soon," she murmured quietly. I hummed in acknowledgement.

Suddenly, Bella was heaving herself to her feet, dusting off the dirt and pebbles that clung to her pants. I immediately lamented the loss of contact, desperately wanting to feel her skin against mine once more, even though I knew I had no right for that desire. I wanted to beg her to stay, to sit with me, to talk to me. It seemed her presence alone was enough to help keep my head above the water.

But it seemed Bella wasn't ready to let me go, either. She extended a hand to me, a hopeful look on her face. "Will you get a coffee with me, Edward?" She asked softly.

I blinked in surprise, looking between the offered hand and kind smile. "I…" I trailed off, looking back towards the waves.

I felt her warm palm on my shoulder. "Edward," her voice was pleading, and I looked up at her in confusion. Her eyes were wide and soft, her touch gentle, and I could see her bottom lip just barely quivering. "Give me today," she begged, and I frowned, not understanding. "Give me today to show you that it gets better. Please, Edward."

I considered it. If I left with Bella now, would I be able to come back?

Then again, if I couldn't come back, should I really be here in the first place?


End file.
